My parents went back to Florida last week, after having been here on the Cape all summer. We’d lent them our Saab, one of our three vehicles, and I’d spent the summer months driving around either in our pick-up, a ten-year-old Mazda, or our 1970 Land Rover, essentially a glorified tractor.
I was fine with that. For three months, I was all big and bad and rural. But it was just a show. Cars tap into our essential nature, and the real me was glad to get behind the wheel of my tricked-out city-slicker Saab, with its vroomy turbo and its velvet clutch.
Sure, I’m tough. Just don’t take away my dual climate control.